


Move With A Beat

by Chaotic_Eclipse



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dancing, F/F, Pharah is her nickname, Rating May Change, clubs, does anybody even ship this?, sometimes going out drinking isn't a terrible idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaotic_Eclipse/pseuds/Chaotic_Eclipse
Summary: "So here she was thirty minutes and three arguments later -- because for some reason no one in her group could agree on a bar, so it was her that ultimately picked -- they'd found a booth in one of the higher end clubs. Pharah could appreciate the aesthetic and the name had been what had drawn her to choose in the first place -- she knew absolutely nothing about bars,  beyond the seedy dive bars she went to for a quick drink."
OR
What was supposed to be just a night of drinking turns out to be something a lot more interesting.





	Move With A Beat

**Author's Note:**

> This was spawned out of me listening to too much club music and indulging in one of my many ship preferences.

She didn't know what to expect, not when her night had become something so entirely out of her control. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, she just didn't often find herself being dragged unceremoniously off her couch and out of her apartment so she could 'loosen up.'

In her opinion she was _plenty_ relaxed, but, whatever. 

So here she was thirty minutes and three arguments later -- because for some reason no one in her group could agree on a bar, so it was her that ultimately picked -- they'd found a booth in one of the higher end clubs. Pharah could appreciate the aesthetic and the name had been what had drawn her to choose in the first place -- she knew absolutely _nothing_ about bars, beyond the seedy dive bars she went to for a quick drink.

Look she wasn't picky, don't judge her.

It was hard to ignore the way the bass rumbled in her chest and rattled around in her skull, letting her know she'd probably leave with a headache, while she nursed a drink that was definitely _not_ strong enough to put up with the conversation going on around her.

Sometimes being 'one of the guys' wasn't an advantage.

"For the last time I'm _not_ interested in getting laid!" She groused, responding to a particularly offensive jab about her need for a sex life. She didn't _need_ anything; she especially didn't need her friends helping her find a woman.

She was perfectly capable of doing that on _her own_ thank you very much.

Her attention slid from the rowdy laughter her companions offered her out to the dance-floor, her eyes trailing over the writhing mass of bodies moving to the beat of the music. It didn't look particularly appealing, being caught in a mass of movement and sweat, but she supposed she understood why people did.

Until she caught sight of _her_ \-- and _Allah_ did Pharah suddenly feel like she was in some cliche romance movie right then -- moving through the crowd like some kind of shadow; all coiled power and feline grace. She threaded through the writhing mass of bodies like they weren't there, a tray of drinks so casually perched on the fingers of one hand. Pharah had to admit she wasn't exactly the _friendliest_ looking woman, but she was certainly the most attractive one she'd seen so far.

She didn't realize she'd been staring until golden eyes were turned on her, a single eyebrow raising in question. Pharah's eyes widened slightly and she could feel heat -- absolutely not alcohol related -- crawling up her neck and staining her cheeks. She looked away a moment later, fumbling for her drink before draining the rest of the glass in one shot, relishing the distraction the burn offered.

It was both a disappointment and a relief to see the woman had moved on when she dared to look up again, even if she found herself leaning out of her booth in an attempt to locate her a second time, part of her arguing that she really ought to get up and go _talk to her._ Lest the mysterious golden eyed woman walk out of her life without so much as an introduction. 

_Idiot._

"Somebody catch your eye, Fareeha?" The question had her righting herself in her seat and folding her arms over her chest, shooting a glare at her companions. She was still blushing, could still feel it burning in her cheeks and it made their prodding even more embarrassing then being caught staring had been.

The bastards were all smirking at her.

"Maybe," she replied, lazily spinning her empty glass around with a finger, "I'm gonna get another drink." With that she was standing up and making her way over to the bar. She envied the still nameless woman, finding it nearly impossible to weave through the mess without bumping into at least a few people, offering apologies in response to the disgruntled glares. 

It took longer then strictly necessary to reach the bar counter and she took up one of the few remaining stools when she did, breathing out an exasperated sigh. Really, how did people do this every weekend? It was more stressful then the work week they all came here to escape from.

"The Vodka sours are the best here." 

_Distinctly French._ Was the first thought that crossed her mind when she heard the words from somewhere over her shoulder, then -- when the owner of the voice slid between the person sitting beside her and her -- _oh it was the golden eyed woman from earlier._

"Really?" She asked, looking away from her new company, "I guess I'll have to try one." She propped her arms up on the counter, leaning forward on them before one arm was lifted to flag one of the several bartenders moving back and forth behind the counter down. "Vodka sour," She said when one came by, watching as he nodded, then turned his attention to the woman beside her.

"Oh, I'm fine I have a drink already," The Frenchwoman said, lifting the half empty glass she held between slender fingers. Pharah was staring again, but this time she was less obvious about it, eyeing her out of the corner of her eye, hardly noticing that the bartender had left to go make her drink.

She had to admit it was nice to get a closer look, daring to turn her head enough to take in more of the smooth angles of her face. She truly was beautiful, dark hair and pale skin, practically bleeding sexual tension with every move she made. Pharah found herself tracing the column of her throat with her eyes, pausing where the patch of skin above her collarbones disappeared underneath the dress shirt she wore.

"Do you like what you see?" 

_Fuck._ Her eyes flicked back up to the other woman's face, flushing worse at the amused curl of her lips and the arch of her brow. " _Yes_ \--I mean, I'm sorry I shouldn't be staring," She sputtered, turning away to bury her face in her hands. Normally she was pretty good at this but she certainly wasn't on her game tonight.

Out of practice, maybe.

"Oh, I don't mind." Pharah looked up as the other woman turned to face her better, propping her hip against the edge of the counter, "You can stare as much as you want, provided you tell me your name."

"Fareeha." She heard the clink of a glass being set down by her arm as soon as she spoke, glancing in time to offer a nod in thanks to the bartender who delivered it. She turned in her seat then, ignoring the fact that her companion was practically standing in between her knees now, "I think it's only fair you tell me yours now, hm?" She inquired, shifting her hand enough to curl fingers around her glass, lifting it up to her lips to take a sip.

"Amélie."

She turned the way the other woman pronounced it over in her mind a few times, eyes fixated on the way Amélie turned her glass around in her hand; then on the way her throat worked as she drank. "So, Amélie, are you here alone tonight?" She asked finally, tearing her gaze away from her neck in favor of looking her in the eyes again.

"No," She replied, tossing a glance to the collection of booths nearby, "I'm with friends." Slowly Amélie straightened from her languid lean against the counter, causing Pharah to stiffen the moment she stepped closer, "I just couldn't resist the urge to find out more about the woman I caught staring at me."

_Oh._ "There's not much to know," Pharah remarked, shrugging a shoulder before draining her drink a little too fast, "I'm not really that interesting." She set the glass down again, lifting her previously occupied hand to run fingers through her hair.

"I think you are," Amélie said, "else I wouldn't have bothered coming over." 

"That's refreshingly uh..blunt."

It was Amélie's turn to shrug, draining the rest of her drink before she too set her glass down on the counter. "I prefer to speak the truth," she replied, stepping away from the bar and looking down at where Pharah still sat, "makes it easier in the long run." She paused as she considered something, angling her head back up and towards the dance-floor, "Do you dance, Fareeha?"

"Not very well," Pharah replied, slipping off the stool to fish her wallet out of her jeans, "Passably, I guess." She paid for her second drink, then shoved the wallet back into her pocket. When she looked up Amélie had taken several steps towards the dance-floor and was easily swaying to the beat of the music. It didn't take a genius to read the silent invitation and soon Pharah was joining her, allowing Amélie to take her hand and lead her into the thick of the crowd.

"Don't think," Amélie told her as they started to move, "just let the music be your guide." 

It was good advice, advice Pharah followed as her hands settled on Amélie's hips and drew her closer. Now front to back they lost themselves in the beat of the music; a slow and sensual grind of hips. She didn't pay any mind to the other's surrounding them, hardly noticed if there was lyrics to the music or not. All that mattered was the body against hers and the flow of movement between them, increasing with the bass thundering in her head.

Pharah wasn't sure when her hands started to wander, disturbing the edge of Amélie's neatly tucked shirt; fingers finding a flash of hot skin as they traveled down over well muscled thighs, then back up. She could feel the path Amélie's own hands wandering across what she could reach of her neck, feel the press of hot lips against her jaw. She turned into the exploratory mouth, catching Amélie's lips with her own. The other woman's fingers tangled in her hair, holding her there as they kissed. Slow, languid, almost tender...just the shift and press of lips until a sharp nip had Pharah growling low in her throat, licking her way into Amélie's mouth.

It became something else then, something driven by lust and need and a drive for control. A battle for dominance that ended with Amélie breaking it to draw a proper breath. They'd stopped moving, staring at one another for several tense seconds while they just breathed. 

Amélie turned in her embrace a moment later, hand leaving the back of her head to join the other on either of Pharah's shoulders. They leaned in at the same time, mouths crashing together in a kiss that was more teeth and tongue. Pharah's hands found the curve of Amélie's ass at the same time Amélie's fingers pressed hard into the small of her back. Pharah was half tempted to pick her up, allowing her fingers to wander lower until she'd found the backs of her thighs.

She didn't, choosing instead to run her palms over her ass again, enjoying the way Amélie's breath hitched when she did. 

It was Pharah that broke the kiss this time, licking her lips.

"I don't think the patrons will much approve if we keep going." 

Pharah watched as the corner of Amélie's mouth quirked in response, eyes momentarily flicking off to somewhere beside them. The other woman seemed to consider something for several seconds, fingers drawing lazy patterns along the curve of Pharah's back as she did.

"Why don't we take this somewhere else, then?" Those eyes were back on her again, slender eyebrow arched with the curious inquiry of her tone.

"My place or yours?" Pharah asked with a grin, leaning down to bump their foreheads together playfully.

Amélie laughed, shoving at her shoulders lightly. "Yours."

It wasn't what Pharah had been aiming for, but as she left the club in the company of her mysterious golden eyed stranger, she realized it was a lot better then just sitting on her couch all night watching random movies on Netflix. 

Allah she could already hear the comments she would get from the guys tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> There may be a part 2 added to this, I haven't decided yet.


End file.
